


69 years, 3 months, 9 days, 47 minutes, and 23 seconds

by hiareyouanerdcauseiam



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, I just didn't want to write an essay, M/M, i honestly don't know what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 12:39:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6907594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiareyouanerdcauseiam/pseuds/hiareyouanerdcauseiam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When Sam was born, his clock said 22 years, 10 months, 12 days, 3 minutes, and 57 seconds. It was normal. He would meet his soulmate in college or something normal like that.</p>
<p>	Dean’s however was… different."</p>
<p>A soulmate AU where the clock on your wrist counts down to when you will meet your soulmate.</p>
<p>(or in which I basically just retell their story except soulamtes yay)</p>
            </blockquote>





	69 years, 3 months, 9 days, 47 minutes, and 23 seconds

**Author's Note:**

> I guess there is kinda some descriptions of violence, but it's not much. Just Dean... dying. So I guess I will say trigger warning because I was kinda graphic? I don't really know it's mostly sad more than anything, just stay safe.

When Sam was born, his clock said 22 years, 10 months, 12 days, 3 minutes, and 57 seconds. It was normal. He would meet his soulmate in college or something normal like that.

Dean’s however was… different. His was odd according to the normal standards. His clock said 69 years, 3 months, 9 days, 47 minutes, and 23 seconds. Dean had always panicked about this, saying he would never find love until it’s too late. He always covered his clock, out of shame. Usually he wrapped it in a scarf. 

John Winchester’s clock stopped when he met Mary. And oh how he loved Mary. She was the light of his life, his sun, his moon, and his stars. Until that one night that fateful night, where his star died. November 2nd, 1983, the day that would change the Winchester’s life forever.

22 years after their mom died, Dean strolled onto the Stanford campus. It was probably about midnight, but he didn’t care. Besides, he got almost 6 hours yesterday night. His clock read 40 years, but by this point he didn’t even care. He’d probably die before then anyhow. After his fight with Sam, he got introduced Jess. 

Sam told his story, about how he and Jess met. They were drunk as all hell, both knowing that tonight was the night. This girl named like Jackie or something invited Sam to this party, as well as Jess. Burdened with the knowledge that it was the night they would meet, they drank a little bit too much. Nervousness can do that to people. They officially met about 17 minutes into the party, when Sam was standing there looking at his wrist, and Jess came up to him and asked for a dance. Sam said yes, of course. Ever since then, they were living in almost perfect harmony. Everything was perfect.

Dean filled with guilt, knowing he would be ripping Sam from his perfectly happy life here. He justified himself with, “Dad needs my help,” although it never really helped. When Jess left the room, Dean spoke up about why he was really here.

“Dad’s on a hunting trip… And he hasn’t been home in a few days.”

That night, Sam’s world fell apart in a fiery ball of repressed memories and parallel deaths.

\-------------------------------

The hellhounds ripped into his skin, clawing into him, like a lion into its prey. He can’t even tell if he’s screaming in pain right now but the thought that crossed his mind was the only thing that mattered at the moment. It’s all for Sam, he thought. Even though all of the pain, the brief thought of how his soulmate would die alone and that it was his fault seemed to hurt him more than the devilish canines tearing into his stomach, dooming him to hell. The snarling and growling slowed, the sound of flesh ripping stopped, as his fate was sealed. His eyes slipped closed, the screaming stopped, as his last breath finally slipped out, the 40 years left on his clock stopped.

\-------------------------------

A bright blue light blinded him, a soft beating, that grew louder and louder, filled his ears. The wind had picked up dramatically, blowing his blood-matted hair into odd positions. Suddenly a soft hand grabbed him, but he flinched. It was the first kind touch he received in years. He was lifted off his feet, the beating louder than ever and the soft blow of wind had grown harsh. A voice, loud and clear as day, sung like music to his ears:

Dean Winchester is saved.

\-------------------------------

When he woke up, he hadn’t even thought about his clock. Dean was alive and that’s all that mattered. However, what Dean didn’t know mattered even more. His clock read 1 day, 14 hours, 45 minutes, and 51 seconds.

\-------------------------------

Bobby helped him paint the sigils, both of them hoping that at least one of them would stop the thing that pulled Dean out of hell. His clock didn’t even cross his mind when night came. The roof rattled, shaking as if it would fall in. Dean and Bobby armed themselves.

“Wishful thinking, but maybe it’s just the wind.”

Almost on cue, the monster blew open the doors. Light bulbs shattered in a shower of sparks and a man shaped thing stalks in. He had dark, messy hair and bright eyes, and was wearing a dirty trench coat, slacks, and a dress shirt. Any normal person would have passed him by on the street like he was an ordinary human, but Dean knew better. He lit him up like it was Christmas, but the bullets did nothing. It didn’t even faze him.

As he approached, Dean plunged his knife into his chest, when suddenly he felt a tick on his right wrist. He let go of the knife and looked at it in awe. 

00 y, 00 m, 00 d, 00 m, 00 s

“Who are you?” 

The thing answered, “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.”

“Yeah. Thanks for that.”

The man looked down at his chest, pulls out the knife as if it were a mere toothpick. He dropped it and it clattered to the ground with a loud clank.

Bobby swang at him from behind. The man grabbed it and used it to swing him around. It touched Bobby on the forehead with his three fingers and he crumples to the ground like a dead body.

“We need to talk, Dean. Alone.”

Dean ran to Bobby’s side, and pushed his two fingers to his neck. He feels a pulse, but it’s slow. Dean turns arounds and stares at the man with his most intense glare he could muster through his mild panic.

“Your friend’s alive,” it monotoned.

“Who are you?” Dean asks again. 

“Castiel.”

“Yeah, I figured that much, I mean what are you?”

“I’m an Angel of the Lord.”

“Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing,” Dean replied.

The ‘angel’ replied, “This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith.” Oh, Dean didn’t have faith. None at all. He never thought he’d meet his (angel?) soulmate.

Lightning flashes outside the barn and dark shadowy figure appear to be protruding from Castiel’s back. It takes Dean a second to notice but they appeared to be… wings. He gasped a little, hoping Castiel didn’t hear. The flashes of light stop and it’s back to a wingless man in a trench coat. Dean is still in shock. My soulmate has wings… 

“Some angel you are,” Dean looked Castiel up and down, licking his lips. His eyes flicked down to his wrist, and there was nothing. He didn’t have a timer. He wasn’t human. Dean wanted to ask, “Why’d my timer stop when I stabbed you?” but instead stated, “You burned that poor woman’s eyes.”

“I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be... overwhelming to humans, and so can my real voice. But you already knew that,” Castiel tried to justify.

“You mean the gas station and the motel. That was you talking?” Castiel nodded. “Buddy, next time, lower the volume.” 

I call him buddy now. I’m on ‘buddy’ terms with an angel who’s my soulmate. 

“That was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong.”

“And what visage are you in now, huh? What, holy tax accountant?”

“This? This is... a vessel.”

“You're possessing some poor bastard?”

“He's a devout man, he actually prayed for this.”

“Well, I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you really? My timer stopped when you showed up. You have to be human.”

Castiel frowned and confusedly said, “I told you.”

“Right. And why would my angel soulmate rescue me from Hell?”

“We found each other, like your timer said we would. Good things do happen, Dean.”

“Not in my experience.” Castiel looked at him with a sad, yet curious expression.

With squinting eyes, he asked, “What's the matter? You don't think you deserve to have a soulmate?”

“Why'd you do it?” Dean questioned in reply.

“Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this I guess?  
> Feedback is much appreciated and please let me know if you find any mistakes. I had my friends proof this barely before posting it so any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors would be great to know about.
> 
> Anyways hit me up on tumblr if you want more for some reason:  
> @hiareyouanerdcauseiam


End file.
